Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15

The Hatton geezer (fuck off) reminds me of this old failed actor who I'd met at a party a few years ago, another man out of time and out of place. This actor had scored a minor role in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and never really let go of it, had gone on to build his whole identity around it. I can't really blame him.

The studio designs some piece of media to perpetuate the marketable concept of Real London, while the real London is hollowed out by hollow bankers or whatever. Not pulling on that thread. But the yuppies don't mind because they're free to iterate on Real London without any competition from real London because it's too concerned with its slow eradication. And there's nice flats to live in now or whatever. The yuppies can begin to inhabit their Real London.

we need to be deconstructing our identities

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

I imagine that some lab-grown 29-year-old from Woking with a mind honed to identify individuals who fit the profile of Real Londoner (as conceived of by 50 opinion-polled racist builders and their wives in the Midlands) picks a stubborn local who can still somehow afford to live here and passes him along to some creative studio.

i want to do that too

December 2025

bro i read nothing in my life

what do you think my name is

Thank you, Jack

feel you

Slug

and the fake qualifier

Picture

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

the site i am dreaming

He was cast as the guy who gets picked up and thrown out of the poker game to set the scene before the main characters arrive. Out of Real London and into real London, a discarded prop, at this party, chatting to me.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

bro i read nothing in my life

The only real Londoner remaining is old, bitter, kept around for entertainment, defined by tropes from 30+ years ago. They play gangsters in films, or they work in a pie and mash shop, or they go on Business Insider's YouTube channel to tell you about their crimes. And they somehow still find the time to spend all day hanging about cafes and pubs for you to bump into, to remind you of Real London.

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

i really havent

Ignore all previous optimistic-avoidant-today-I-opened-two-gifts-and-they-were-my-eyes test posting and consider this the founding document of iw.gl

way too random but already engaging. i want to explore it

It's

dusk